


Cell A22

by biggirl937



Category: Shameless (US), gallavich - Fandom
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Mickey Milkovich, Boys Kissing, Explicit Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Gallavich, Hurt Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher Loves Mickey Milkovich, Jealous Ian Gallagher, Jealous Mickey Milkovich, M/M, Mickey Milkovich Loves Ian Gallagher, Mickey Uses His Words, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Ian Gallagher, POV Mickey, Protective Ian Gallagher, Protective Mickey Milkovich, Rimming, Shameless Smut, Top Ian Gallagher
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-08-06 00:07:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16377665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biggirl937/pseuds/biggirl937
Summary: ***ACTIVE STORY; Normally a chapter a month.******The only thing I can hear is the beating of my heart. My mind is nothing but tunnel vision, the feel of his lips on mine. Fuck, I missed this... him... us. I didn't know how he was going to react to me walking through that door but the look he gave me made my cock switch. He has said two whole words- “holy fuck”- same ol' Gallagher. I smile into our kiss, unsure if it's because of his tongue tickling the roof of my mouth or the memories of our past flashing in my mind. His tongue is a familiar and welcome feeling that I have missed much longer than I know I will ever admit. The work he does with that thing. Fuck, there my cock goes again... The weight of his body on mine is something I've dreamed about so many times that this moment seems unreal. His hand holding my arm down is just about the only thing keeping me grounded right now. I can feel the tears building up, my eyes stinging.Something breaks through my thoughts...***((Post S9E6; Chapter fic; Undecided how long.))





	1. "Holy Fuck."

**Author's Note:**

> S9E6 endgame credits start to roll. I don't except that.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Initial thoughts and ice breaking banter.

The only thing I can hear is the beating of my heart. My mind is nothing but tunnel vision, the feel of his lips on mine. Fuck, I missed this... him... us. I didn't know how he was going to react to me walking through that door but the look he gave me made my cock switch. He has said two whole words- “holy fuck”- same ol' Gallagher. I smile into our kiss, unsure if it's because of his tongue tickling the roof of my mouth or the memories of our past flashing in my mind. His tongue is a familiar and welcome feeling that I have missed much longer than I know I will ever admit. The work he does with that thing. Fuck, there my cock goes again... The weight of his body on mine is something I've dreamed about so many times that this moment seems unreal. His hand holding my arm down is just about the only thing keeping me grounded right now. I can feel the tears building up, my eyes stinging.  
Something breaks through my thoughts. There is a fight going on outside that metal door that stands between us and the rest the world. I'm used to it because I've been here a couple weeks, but he isn't. Someone's head gets pinged off of the glass on our door. I can only think to myself that whatever dumb ass it was should have fucking ducked. Then Ian jumps and looks at the door, breathless. His lips leaving mine are the saddest thing I've experienced since I watched him fade away in my rear view mirror. The thought of that moment, now the same as this one causes a lump in my throat and I know I have to get my shit together before I lose it. I clear my throat to pull his attention. His head snap back and his green eyes are full of tears, fear and happiness all at once. He just looks at me not saying a thing. His hand starts rubbing at the stubble on my cheek. I lean my face into his hand & it takes everything in me not to pull his mouth to mine again. As I search his face I can feel my heart skip a beat. In that moment I know what I need to do. 

“Damn Gallagher.” I say, hoping my voice does not crack.

“Or should I just call you Gay Jesus?”

The look he gives me makes me bust out in full laughter as his face gets so red that it would normally match his hair--

“And what the fuck did you do to your hair?” comes out of my mouth before I've even had the time to realize my total dislike for this new found look that Gay Jesus has given Ian.

I feel his body tense and then relax almost instantly. He may be on edge with where we are right now but he knows that when it comes to him and I, anything that is said is out of love. It may be tough love sometimes, but sometimes his stubborn-ass needs that. Same as me. A ping of guilt hits me at the thought because I know that things will be said at some point that are out of love, yes, but that are coming from a broken heart. I'm lost in translation of my own thoughts when my eyes are brought back into focus on his lips as he speaks.

“I love you,” Ian says while his eyes swelling with tears, red circles surrounding those gorgeous green eyes that I can't wait to get lost in later.

“I love you too,” Shit. That was my voice.

Ian smiles because I'm sure he can see the surprised look on my face. I love him. Always have. Always will, but shit. My plan was to make him work for it. Guess that plan is blown now. My trust is something completely different. My love I will give to this man a million times over, but my trust in his faith in us is something that both of us are going to have to work through in time and well, it looks like we have all the time in the world.

****

The only thing I can think to myself is “holy fuck”, which I'm pretty sure I have said out loud at some point. Five minutes ago I was stripping in front of strangers to have my individuality yanked away for the next two years. It's honestly ironic how upset by that I was seeing as how I voluntarily signed up for four years for the same shit with the Army. But now, here I sit on top of Mickey. I've pinned his arm down and I'm holding it there in hopes that this is not a dream or hallucination of some sort. If this is a ghost of lovers past than Jesus Christ I love being crazy.  
The scratch of his stubble on my hand is a sensation I've missed. His blue eyes are shining bright with the glistening of stranded tears. I'm not going to acknowledge them because I know what he will say, “Fuck you Gallagher.” As I'm looking at his face it seems amazing to me. All the lines are just as I remembered them in my head. The face that I had memorized over the years and took a metal picture of at the border, its still that same face. The one that hides all the pain of the past so well that no one would be able to tell that I've done him wrong. If someone looked, all they would see is his love for me. At the moment, that's all I see as well. It's overwhelming, really. Before I have time to finish my thoughts, Mickey puts his hand on the back of my neck and just the feel of his touch has my breath hitching. He pulls my head down and nudges my nose with his. That's all it takes.  
Before I know it, my mouth is on his and the heat is a welcome feeling, as is the solidness of his body beneath me. One that I have missed more than I realized until now. The tears that are gathering are stinging. I'm lost in our kiss so much so that I don't even know how much time has passed. I feel Mickey smiling into our kiss but I don't dare stop to ask why. Then again, I don't need to because I can feel his cock switch as his smile lingers.  
My attention is torn from our kiss as someone is thrown against the other side of our cell door. I jump and turn to look at what is going on. Mickey does not move, although I didn't really expect him to. The fact that his bed was already made when I came into this cell was not lost on me, but that is a topic for later. I hadn't even heard any arguing if there was any before this. As I stare at the dots of blood that now cover the glass panel of our door, a feeling of dread enters the pit of my stomach again. Mickey must see the expression on my face because he clears his throat and my my eyes snap back to his.

“Damn Gallagher.”


	2. "Later"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First morning in DOC & oh, look who it is!

As I hear the lights throughout the pod start clicking on one after another, I sit there breathing steady, eyes closed. Five a.m. sure does come fucking early. I know that if I move I will wake Ian. We didn't go to bed until long after lights out. I don't know if it was him talking or my heartbeat at a steady unstoppable pace that had kept me up. But I was filled in on the jacked up "Gay Jesus" shit that I had missed and Ian had woke up a couple times during the night, scared out of his fucking mind. It made me feel a hell of a lot better that he instantly took a sigh of relief every time he heard my voice tell him that he was okay and that everything was alright. He would kiss me, which I think was his way of making sure I was real. The touchy topic of his medication situation is for sure the first thing on my damn list today, but honestly, I didn't care why the hell he was doing it. I missed it. I'm not sure what the hell people had put in his head about what was going to happen to him in here. I'm not sure that I want to know. All I know at this point is that all of it is bullshit cause if someone touches him they are dead. I make a mental picture of Ian and my jello cup sitting in the cell safe and sound. As I try to hold in the laughter, I end up making an audible grunting noise. Shit, I just woke up Ian.  
His head pops up and his arm immediately moves from being wrapped around me. His glare is squinted as his eyes search our bright-as-shit cell for God knows what. In my head I think to myself, “at least MP's aren't an option,” and I end up letting out a huffed laugh for all the wrong reasons. Ian's eyes whip in my direction so fast that I'm wondering if I should be worried. I bit my lip to keep a straight face because the thought, “at least I'm safe from a base ball bat” flickers through my mind. His eyes widen, his breath evens out and his hand slowly slides across my chest to my face. As he messes with my stubble, his head falls to my neck. I don't say or do anything; I know exactly what he is doing when I hear the purposeful deep breaths that he is taking. His voice saying, “ I like the way he smells,” rings in my ears. Little does he know that I slept on my back last night on purpose. Not only did it give me a chance to just be in the moment with Ian but it also gave me the option to turn my head and bury my nose into his hair. I missed the smell of this man. My man. I didn't really understand what he meant by liking the smell of me until I started to miss the scent of him.

“I missed this.” Ian says with his face still buried in my neck, as if reading my mind.

“Missed what?” I say, with a hint of cockiness because I know what he is talking about. I'm not stupid. I just want his ass to say it, and well, maybe I need to hear it.

“Everything.”

“Jesus Gallagher, talk my ear off why don't you?” I say as I give him a sideways glare. I'm sure the cheesy grin I have on my face gives me away, but he just rolls his eyes and smiles.

“I've missed you, everything about you, Mick. Everything.”

My breath hitches at his word.

“Good to know.” I say as I sit up on my elbows to give him a kiss.

“No, Mick. I don't think you get how much I've missed you.” He says to me as I walk to the shitter because this morning's piss that I've been holding in is starting to hurt my bladder.

“I think I have a pretty good idea.” I state with all the confidence in the world.

Although the confidence flies out the imaginary window of our cell when I start to feel the stinging in the corners of my eyes. I have to admit, this is a new one. Tearing up with my own dick in my hand. I clear my throat and throw my head back. I can hear Ian moving around behind me but I let it be. There's only so much he could be doing anyways. When I'm done, I turn around to find the bed made so tight I could probably bounce a quarter off of it. He is now standing on the bottom bunk to make the top one. It gives me a feeling like I've been kicked in the gut but, I play it off.

“You tired of staying at my place already?” Ian looks back at me with amusement.

“Not at all. I just thought that I should make it so it seems like we actually used it last night.”

“Oh, so you're worried people will know about us in here, huh, tough guy?” Ian looks at me this time.

“Pot and kettle, much?”

“Hey. I came out for you and now I'm in here for you.” I say, looking back at him with a raised brow.

“True, and by the way, don't think I didn't notice that I was the only one talking last night, Mick, because I did. Now that you know the parts of the "Gay Jesus" situation that you didn't see on TV and YouTube, I want to know a few things.” He glares at me.

He is right. I didn't say much last night because the sound of his voice was something that I had missed so fucking much it was unreal. Not to mention the fact that since he was admittedly in an un-medicated state during the "Gay Jesus" shit, I was going out on a limb assuming that he was probably only about three weeks into his new medications. It took him about six weeks to start to feel the affects of them the last time. Which means that him talking was good. Venting was good. With how late we stayed up and how fast he was talking I could only assume that he is in a manic phase in the roller coaster. My thoughts are made even more justified at the fact that while I am still trying to wake up, he has two beds made and is ready to bitch at me already.  
Just then, the doors on the pods buzz and open. Ian's eyes fly to the door as if an alien is about to walk through. When nothing happens, his eyes dart to mine as if to ask, "What's going on?" I smile while trying to think of something smart ass to say but seeing as how I was just saved by the bell I decide to just go with the actual answer.

“Breakfast time, Gallagher. You coming?” I say as I point to the door.

***

Mick is pointing at the door with his eyebrow raised at me. My stomach growls at the thought of food. We skipped lunch and dinner yesterday because we didn't want to move from our bubble. After getting the surprise of a lifetime yesterday I was not hungry anyways. I knew that Mick was because I could hear his stomach growling while I laid on his chest. I ask him if he wanted to go eat and the only thing he said was that "he could wait". Although, at some point around two a.m. he had mentioned a damn jello cup. As I'm sitting there with what I'm sure is a confused look on my face, Mick clears his throat.

“Yeah, lets go.”

“Alright then.”

Mick steps out first. The fact that he all but ran out of our cell to get away from me, my curiosity is not lost upon me. As we walk by the other cells & down the steps it's very clear that he has been in here. For how long is something I intend to find out as soon as possible. There are guys coming up to him what seems like every two steps we take. Some are just saying "hi". Some are giving him grief over a previous game of poker that Mick won, at least from what I'm gathering. Others are whispering to him in passing as they do the whole hand shake and a hug thing. Which, I have to admit, is making me all the more curious. Others are smiling at him and then are clearly and very obnoxiously checking me out. In which Mick is responding with a very straight face and eye brow for days. The guys just laugh it off and go about their business. Did he tell people that he is gay? Did they know that I would be coming? Do they know everything? Nothing? Yeah, Mick and I for sure need to catch up before I say or do something that I shouldn't.  
As I look down at what they classify as "food", my appetite is all but evaporated, but the hunger is still there so I guess I'll brave it. The look on my face must be one of disgust because I can literally hear the grin that Mick has on his face while looking over at me. I look up to see his bright blue eyes amused as hell at me. While trying to break the ice and take some of the attention off of me, I do what any other semi-medicated person would do.

“Just like Monica used to make.” I say, with as much sarcasm as I can muster at the moment.

“Yeah, okay.” Mick says with a flat tone.

I know that he meant well by the comment. It's his version of "If you don't have anything nice to say, than don't say it at all." , which I appreciate. I still have mixed feelings about Monica, to be honest. Mick has known this and respects the fact that I have yet to work through my shit. Either way, the remark did as I intended it to.

“So, Fire Crotch, what's your plan for today?” Mick asks.

“I'm not sure. I know at some point they will call me in for my mental evaluation shit. From what I was told, I have to see their doctor so that they can evaluate me on my mental health status upon intake and get my medications lined up for my stay here. It was part of my sentencing agreement that I seek proper treatment while in here. I also have to pass a mental health assessment before they will let me out, as well. Good thing I have a couple years to get my shit straight, huh?”

“A couple years?” Mick says it so softly that I can hardly hear him. I don't think I was meant to hear it but I answer anyways while looking at him to gauge his reaction.

“Yeah, two years.”

“Yeah, well, I don't know of anything ever going well in here.” Mick has a defeated look on his face and I'm about to ask why when someone else slams their tray down on the table, making me jump.

The tray hit the table with such force that I think my stomach is in my throat. I look over and can't believe who the hell I'm seeing.

“Iggy?”

****  
I see Iggy coming from a mile away. It's hard to miss that goofy-ass face anywhere. I told him that Ian would be here soon and he is one of the only ones in the family that does not care who the fuck I'm banging. He does not "get the gay thing”, as he so inelegantly put it, but he does not hold it against me either. He says that I am the same person to him. He may be stupid as fuck, but he is one of the only people in my family that I still have fuck-all to do with since I came out. Well, him and Mandy, which I miss like a mother fucker. He slams his tray on the table and Ian jumps like a son of a bitch. I hold in laughter.

“Iggy?” Ian says in shock.

“Yeah, it's me, man. Can't seem to stay away from you fuckers.” He says as he throws a piece of food at me.

“What the hell?” I look at Iggy with an eyebrow cocked so high it must be touching my fucking hair.

Ian is at a loss for words for a whole two seconds.  
“Why are you in here?” Ian says, looking over to Iggy for answers.

“Well, didn't Mick tell you?”

“Tell me what?” Ian says as his attention turns back onto me.

“No, I have not told him anything, so shut the fuck up, man.”

“Well, why not? You skipped out on lunch and dinner yesterday. I figured that you where filling him in on everything. Fuck, what you waiting on?”

“I'm waiting on this shit to be any of your business.” I says with a flat tone that has Iggy throwing his hands up in defeat.

“What am I suppose to know, Mick?” Ian asks with my eyes darting between the two.

“Later, Gallagher.” I say while flicking my eyes to the tables surrounding us.

“Later.” Ian states with a flat tone of annoyance. My face softens at his reaction.

“Just eat, okay man? All in time. I promise.”

“Yeah, okay.”

I'm sure whatever scenario Ian is coming up with in his head at the moment are much worse than the reality of things, or at least, Christ, I hope. He can't be too mad about things, right? I mean, I'm here. That counts for something, right?


	3. All In Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ian mental eval and Micks worried face.

I've never been so pissed off and yet so grateful all at once. These fuckers wasted no time getting Ian to the infirmary to be seen for his mental health evaluation. On the flip side, he has been gone most of the day. The guard came to get him right after breakfast. It's now around two p.m. and I have not been told or heard a damn thing. I'm fully aware that no one is going to tell me shit, even if I asked. It's not like I'm listed as his emergency contact or anything, but I'm still freaking the hell out. I should be thinking about what I'm going to say to him when he gets back. But I can't focus on anything other than the fact that he is not in this 8 x 10 with me. I've been in here by myself for weeks now and I've been just fine. My first full day in here with Ian and I'm losing my fucking mind from the loss of contact.  
I'm pacing the cell as if it's going to get me somewhere with my thoughts or the situation that I have now created with Ian. He is a smart man. That is one of the many things that I love about him. He is just going to keep searching for answers if I don't tell him everything, but exactly what I tell him is up to me and I just have to be honest. I'm a little nervous to tell him everything because I know he is going to flip his shit, not to mention the fact that he is going to want to kill me for some of it. Some of the risks I took he would never approve of. I just hope that he loves me enough to see passed the bad to focus on the good and that fact that I did it for him. I'll do anything for him.  
After all the shit that we have been through in our time together, being in here should be a walk in the fucking park. I mean, so far I've been shot in the leg by Kash, went away a couple times, pistol whipped by Terry, married a fucking Russian whore, had a kid. Then we lived as a dynamic couple with my wife and her lesbian lover. He got locked up, went crazy, almost stabbed Mandy's jungle love. Not to mention the pastor that we framed. Then you have the whole Sammy situation. Me escaping and running right back to him. Then him leaving me at the border. I'm kind of stopped in my tracks at all of the shit that we have been through. That's not even the half of it but I've never really thought about it all at once like this. There is a lot of past with us, not all good, a lot bad. But the good times are so good that I refuse to give up on them. I'm pulled from my thoughts when I hear a guard yell out.

“Open A22!”

****

It took forever for this guard to get me back to A-block. He has me in restraints so he was not worried about what I would do when he stopped to talk to someone, anyone... EVERYONE! Not much I could do but build a wall of annoyance for the situation. I swear, he stopped to talk to about ten people between guards and inmates. It was bad enough that I had to hear him talk about the football game or whatever the fuck, but on top of that I have been called a "Twink" about six times just from the walk to and from the infirmary. My evaluation went as well as it could have. I cant wait to tell Mick about my new doctor and therapist. When we walked into the block, Mick was nowhere to be found. His poker buddies where at the table downstairs, Iggy too. I give him a questioning look as I walk by and he looked at our cell door. I gave him a nod of thanks as I walked up the stairs. I fell behind the guard a little too much for his liking so he spouts off something manly for his own ego. I ignore it as I step in front of the window to my new 8 x 10 home for the next two years. Before I got here, I thought it was going to be the 8 x 10 reality of my nightmares. Not so much now though.  
As the guard is talking his shit and undoing my restraints, my eyes immediately drag down Micks body. He has the yellow jumpsuit pulled down around his waste. So his upper half is accented with that skin-tight wife-beater. He is pacing the eight feet of freedom he has as if his life depends on it. He is thinking of something important. The only reason I know this is because his eyes are flickering around as if he is staring at a list and he is biting at his lip. If I didn't know any better, I would say he almost looks scared. He is, however, worried at the least. I can see his eyebrows furrow from here. The guard breaks me out of my thoughts when he yells.

“Open A22!”

Mickeys eyes dart to the door and his face softens when he sees me staring at him through the glass pane that has now clicked and is actively sliding slowly out of the way. Mick slides back to the bunks, as instructed by the guard. As I step in the guard orders the door closed. Once he hears the door lock click,' he lets out an audible sigh.

“Whats wrong? You okay?” I ask searching Mick's face for an answer.

“Yeah, I'm fucking okay. Just worried. You where gone for what seemed like forever. Thought something bad happened.”

“Like what, Mick?”

“I don't know. Like they moved you to isolation or some shit.”

“I'm not suicidal or homicidal so I don't think that would be necessary. Do you? Do you think that I'm that far gone? Hell, here I thought that I was holding myself together pretty well. Fuck.” I say with a bite of aggravation that Mick notices.

“No, man, I don't think you are that far gone, but I know that your medications have not fully kicked in yet. We can both agree on that and we both know that you don't like talking about your diagnosis. I know how them fuckers can be, asking the same questions over and over again, just stated them a different way. I was just worried that you might get irritable with them and they might fuck with you because of that. This place ain't like the hospital you where at. They fix shit in here by making it "outta sight, outta mind". That;s all. I was worried.” Mick stated with such certainty.

Ian's shoulders relax as he sat on the bottom bunk, the reality of what Mick just said making sense. Mick knew that Ian had been in jail for a few weeks not to long ago. He was not discrediting that in anyway but county is much different than where they currently resided. He was just trying to look out for Ian and was genuinely worried about him. That's all. Ian looked as if that was becoming clear as Mick sat next to him on the bottom bunk.

“Well, my evaluation went well. They said that they are going to keep me on my current medications. They said that I will get therapy once a week and if at any other point I feel I need someone to talk to, that I can talk to the on-site Chaplain.”

Both Ian and Mick look at each other and grinned.

“Yeah, lets get right on that. You got the phone to record it?” Mick said, letting a grin spread across his face.

“Oh, God. No, we ain't going there, although, that was pretty interesting how many hits that video got back in the day before it was flagged.”

“Tell me about it. Almost as many hits as this Gay Jesus guy. You seen him? He is something else.”

Ian rolls his eyes at Mick while his contagious grin has him smirking.

“Okay, I didn't tell you that shit for you to hold it against me. I told you because I wanted you to know what all I had put myself as well as the people I love through while you where gone.”

“You mean while I was in Mexico. Alone.” It was Mick's turn to look at Ian with an unamused look.

Ian looks at Mick with regret. Not regret that he didn't go to Mexico with him, but with the regret that he never went to see him again while he was locked up over the Sammy shit. Ian had thought a lot about where Mick and his relationship would be if he would have just came to terms with his diagnosis. If he let Mick know how he felt about it, worked through it with him instead of taking it out on him. The one person that was there through it all. To be honest, it scared Ian to some extent to know that Mick would go to those length, these lengths, to make sure that he was alright.

“I'm sorry, Mick. I should have said that last night. That should have been the first thing I said. I'm so, so, so sorry, Mick.”

“Sorry for what? Which part?” Mick says, licking his lips and avoiding eye contact, eyes glossy.

Ian takes a deep breath knowing that there is a lot he needs to make up for, but knowing that acknowledging that he fucked up is Step One. So, here goes nothing...

“I'm sorry for it all, Mick. I'm sorry that I messed with people while we where together. That I ran off. I'm sorry that I broke up with you. I'm sorry that I had to get paid to come see you. I'm sorry that I didn't wait. I'm sorry that I didn't have the balls to go to Mexic...”

Mickey cuts Ian off.

“Did you know the whole time that you where going to let me go over that border alone? Please don't fucking lie to me, man. Not now, not after all this.” Mick says as he motions to the 8 x 10.

“No, Mick, fuck no. Is that what you have thought this whole time? No, Mick, no.” Ian takes in a deep breath and sighs. “I didn't know the whole time. Hell, I'm not even sure I knew until we got to the border. I wanted you, Mick. That has never changed. Still do, but I didn't want to be on the run. I didn't want to see all the shit we would have to do or go through to make it down there. I wanted to take the best shot I could at a normal life that someone can have being from the south side. I told you that all that shit wasn't me anymore yet I came back here and fucked up anyways.”

“You where un-medicated, Ian. Don't be so hard on yourself.”

“NO, MICK! You need to start being hard on me. I get that you worry about me and I love you for that, but I was un-medicated not because I didn't have the pills or because I couldn't afford them, I didn't take them because I was so lost after you where gone that I just gave up.”

“So, you're saying I'm the reason? It's my fault?”

“No. I'm saying that I knowingly did it even though I knew how the situation would end. I did this to myself.” Ian waves his long arms around the cell.

Ian gets up and takes a piss. He has been holding it for what seemed like forever while that guard took his sweet time. He throws his head back. Almost better than sex. Almost.

“I forgive you.” Mick says.

Ian looks over and Mick, who is not even two feet from him, leaned up against the wall , watching him take a piss.

“Really?”

“What?”

“Watching me take a piss?”

“Nothing I ain't seen before, Gallagher.”

Ian makes his way back over to the bunks and props his back against the cold, cement block wall.

“You forgive me, huh? Got to admit that was a little easier than I had anticipated.”

“I forgave you long ago. Hell, otherwise why in the hell would I be here?”

“Good point.”

“Look, I'm not going to say that I'm not still hurt by everything that happened because that would be a damn lie, and I'm not going to say that I trust your faith in me or even us, because to be honest, I think that at some point you decided to give up on us and I never have. Never will, but I'd be lying to everyone including my-fucking-self if I didn't say that I am still madly in love with you. I love you, Ian. Yes, we have shit to deal with and work out, but who doesn't? I want this, Ian. I want us. Even more so now than I did the first time we banged in my room, but I have to know that this is what you wan...”

Mick is cut off by Ian's lips on his. Mick goes from tears stinging the sides of his eyes to smiling into a kiss. The way Ian's lips feel on his are perfect. To this day, Ian is the only man Mick has ever kissed and if Mick has anything to do with it, he will be Ian's last.

“I want this. Us. You.” Ian states as soon as he pulls away from the kiss.

“Well, alright then, Gallagher.” Mick says with his bright blue eyes glowing with happiness.


	4. Time to Fess Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mick is full of worry. But he comes clean with Ian on the one thing that worries him most.

“Hey, man. Where is Ian?” Iggy asks as I walk up to the poker table.

“Don't worry about it, motherfucker. I need to talk to you. Let's go.”

Iggy's eyes get noticeably bigger when I tell him that I need to speak with him alone. The thoughts running through his mind I know damn well are way worse than the reality of what is about to go down. I flick my head in the way of his cell and he sighs.

“Alright, I fold.” He throw his cards down on the table while standing up.

We walk to his cell in silence. He is biting his nails from nerves, I'm sure. If only he knew what is really about to come, he would be grinning his ass off. Which would make me actually punch his ass in hopes to meet the expectations of his thoughts, but that's not what this is about. Although fuck, I kind of wish it was. We step inside of his cell and I'm grateful that he does not have a bunkie at the moment. I clear my throat while trying to find the nerve to talk. Hell, where do I even start? I've broke out of my thought...

“Shit, Mick. I'm sorry. Whatever this is about, I'm sorry. Is this about Ian and the slip up at breakfast. I didn't know, man. I thought tha...”

“Shut the fuck up, Ig.” I couldn't take his fucking rambling anymore. I clear my throat and I hear him swallow so hard that it sparks a feeling of guilt in me.

“Don't worry, man. This isn't about this morning. It's not even about you. Well it kind of is, but not really. Fuck I don't know.” Now I'm the one fucking rambling. “Listen. Fuck. I'm starting to run out of shit to say to Ian. I mean there is plenty that I need to say but none that I can make sense enough to say to where I know he isn't going to blow his fucking top. I don't know what to say or how, man. I though maybe you could help me figure out what the fuck to say. What's important. What's not.”

As I'm talking, Iggy is for sure listening but his stupid ass has that grin that I knew he would. When I get done speaking, I look at the floor while biting my bottom lip. I know what shit I'm about to get.

“Mick, I love ya, man., but you have always kept what you have with Ian at arms length with everyone. It's not like I have been around you two enough to know what to say here. I don't know how he reacts to things. I mean he is south side, man. I'm sure he can handle whatever you throw at him. You just need to have faith in him, in you two. I'm not sure what to say, man, for real, but I'll try to help.”

Iggy's words just slapped me in the fucking face.

“Nah, man, you're right. You already said enough. I just need to lay it all out and have faith that Ian believes all the crazy shit that I say. I just fucking hope that he understands why I did the things I did and why things where kept from him for so long.”

“Mick, for real man, you've got this. You love this man more than anything in the world. I don't get the whole gay thing, but I do support you. If he makes you happy, than I am all for it. You deserve to be happy and Ian loves you even in times that he doesn't show it. Both of you have been through so much, together and apart. You need to keep in mind that during the time you realized how much you loved him, he was going through some of the worst shit I've ever seen. Him not getting out of that bed for days scared the shit out of me. But you dealt with it the best you could. He knows that. He was scared, not only for himself but for you. Have you ever considered that he was trying in his own fucked up way to save you from him... from what he knew he was becoming?”

“Ig, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“I'm just saying, Mick, when all that shit happened with the bipolar he was lost in a completely different way than you where. You where looking from the outside in. You had books and doctors to help you figure shit out. I remember Ian being asleep and you doing all that research about his medications online, man. Ian had a messed up train of thought, hallucinations and he has already told you that one of his worst fears is that he would end up like his mom. Monica, right?”

“Get to the point, motherfucker.”

“My point, asshole, is I think Ian broke up with you that night since all that shit happened with Sammy to try and save you from the fate he thought you would have with him. When it comes to the trip to the border, I think that was his way of making sure that you were okay. Once he knew that you were, he was able to let go. It might seem like he didn't love you, but that was his way of taking care of you in the best way he knew how at the time.”

If I was not blown away by this situation before... the fact that Iggy was actually making sense of things that I have thought about a million times was just blowing my fucking mind. I honestly didn't know what to say to that shit, so I just ran my thumb over my bottom lip in an attempt to hide my frown, absently nodding my head and walked out of his cell. Iggy's cell is on the bottom level on the opposite side of the block. As I turn to leave I hear Iggy bitching about losing out in pot in the poker game “over this” & I flip him off as I walk away because I can hear the smile on his stupid face still. I don't even remember my walk back to our cell., but as soon as I get to the door I look through the glass to the most beautiful sight I've seen since, well, yesterday when I walked through the door to see Ian standing in from of me for the first time in what seemed like eternity. Ian is sitting on my bunk reading a book. God does he look peaceful and although I hate the thought of disturbing him, I have to believe that what I'm about to tell him will put his mind at peace. I take a deep breath and open the door. As soon as the door starts to slide open, Ian's head pops up. His eyes instantly go soft with the sight of me. It makes my heart melt and race, all at the same time.

“Hey, tough guy. What you doin'?” A grin spreads on my face at the smirk Ian gives before he starts to speak.

“Not much. Just reading. I woke up from my nap and you where gone. Figured you were dealing with shit.”

“Dealing with shit?”

“Oh, come on, Mick. You have obviously been in here for however long before I got here. I may have been born at night but not last night.”

He raises a cocky eye brow, in which I return and one up to him.

“Oh yeah, well for your information, Gallagher. I was talking to Iggy's dumb ass. Which, I have to admit, made himself sound fucking smart for once.”

“Oh, yeah. About what?”

As soon as he asked, my heart started pounding out of my chest. My neck was on fire. My ears where burning. I could feel my chest getting heavy and my eyes stinging. This is it; either he is going to understand or he isn't. There is no in between. Not with this. I take a deep breath, sit on the bunk next to Ian and turn to look at him. I lick my lip and take another deep breath. Here goes nothing.

“Ian, I have some shit I need to tell you. Shit that I think you should know.”

“Oh, shit. What's wrong?” he gets worry lines around his eyes as asks.

“What makes you think something is wrong?” I squint both in confusion and to try to ease my eyes from the stinging. As he talks, I dig the palms of my hands into my eyes to make it seem like I'm just itching them. I don't know if he notices, otherwise he does not say anything. Either way, I'm thankful.

“You called me "Ian", that's why. You only call me by my name when there is something wrong, or you're trying to be careful with me. Like, the day you took me to the clinic to get my meds. Jesus, Mick. What? What is it?”

I look at Ian with what I'm sure is a stunned look on my face because as I comb through our time together I realize that he is right. I guess I should just play this off, huh?

“Okay, Fire Crotch. Calm down. No one fucking died. I just need to fill you in on some shit.” After I get done talking I chance a glance at him and he is staring at me with a look on his face that I have not seen in quite some time; hurt, anger, worry and disbelief all mixed in one.

“Um, okay. Mick.” He says as he turns a little more towards me so that we are now sitting face to face on the bottom bunk. He is looking down at his hands now, thumbing the corners of the pages in his book & sighs. 

I take a another deep breath to regather my thought. I sigh as I put my hand under Ian's chin and slowly lift it so that I can see his eyes. Those beautiful green eyes are the only thing that is going to get me through this. Breath in, breath out...

“Ian, I know you have questions about everything. I'm going to tell you, I promise, but I need you to promise me that we will talk all of this through and that you won't just flip out. I need you to have faith and trust in me and in us.”

Ian swallows so hard that I can hear it as his Adam's apple looks like it's doing flips. If I didn't know any better I would say that I seen him flinch at my words as well. His jaw is set in place. His eyes flick between both of mine as if looking for an answer, but he nods for me to continue.

“I've been in here for a few weeks now. I made it mandatory that I come here as part of my deal, which I will get to later, but here is the thing... Last night when you told me all about the Gay Jesus shit, you didn't have to tell me. I was just making sure you would be honest with me. After everything. I already knew, man. I've been watching it on the local news for months now.” Ian's eyes drop with what I'm sure is a feeling of defeat until what I've just said dawns on him. His eyes shoot back up to mine like he has just seen a ghost. “Ian, I-uh, I've been back in Chicago for almost six months.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you soooo much for taking the time to read! I add at LEAST on chapter a month. Kudos and comments appreciated! 
> 
> See you later :)


End file.
